


It's All In The Eyes

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Series: No One Here Wants To Fight Me Like You Do [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 19:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19730527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: PROMPT: "Don't look at me with that tone of eyebrow Winchester!"





	It's All In The Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maddiepants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddiepants/gifts).



Pre-[Combat Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065015)

* * *

It was another long night at the Roadhouse filled with leering eyes and dirty jokes - and not even _funny_ dirty jokes, just dirty; as if the mere dirtiness makes it funny. It doesn’t.

Jo’s cleaning up, Ellen’s in the back counting the drawer and sorting tips. Jo appreciates this time of night the best - no bottles clinking, no glass breaking, no one puking. Just as she’s wiping down the last table and looking to set on the bar itself, Dean walks in.

Jo feels exhilarated, embarrassed, aroused, and annoyed in rapid succession before standing straight and glaring him in the eye. 

“We’re closed,” she says, flipping her hair and turning her back on the handsome hunter. She’s still mad at him - she’s always kind of mad at him since that’s how unrequited crushes work - but she won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she feels anything.

He’s quiet but doesn’t leave, just moves into the space, fills it, his whole self just _there_ like he owns the place. _Ugh_.

Jo looks up at him from behind the bar as she busies herself with side work. Dean’s looking at her with that one stupid brow arched like she doesn’t even know what or why.

“Don’t look at me with that tone of eyebrow, Winchester,” she says, reaching for the iPad and cranking the volume on the music. She knows her mission is a success when she sees Dean’s best fish impression, opening and closing his mouth, trying to form words and squirming. “I said, we’re closed,” she shouts over John and Jimmy as they spin another timeless melody.

Dean reaches over the bar and grabs the iPad before she can even see what he’s doing. She feels like a hunter failure. She knows her reflexes are better than that.

He turns the music down and looks at her pointedly. “I brought you something,” he says.

“What?” she asks, wiping her hands on her bar rag, dragging her eyes down and up his body.

Then he reaches into the back of his pants and pulls out a knife. But it’s not just any kife, it’s a beautiful knife. Mother of pearl handle, engraved steel hilt, 8″ blade - it looks brand new, but she knows he didn’t buy it for her.

“Where’d you get it?” she asks, openly admiring the thing.

“Got it off a vamp in Reno,” he drolls with an eye roll. “What does it matter where I got it, it’s yours. I thought of you right away.”

She softens as he hands it to her, hefts its weight and grips it firmly. Her eyes dart to his.

“For your freak knife collection.” He grins and she laughs, dips her head and sheaths the knife in her own pants.

“Thanks, Dean,” she says. “Can I get you something?”

“Nah, you’re closed, remember?” he says as he backs away from the counter then spins on his heel to leave. “Raincheck.” He throws that last reply over his shoulder as he lets the door close behind him.

“Who was that?” Ellen asks, tired and irritated, shoving a wad of cash in her pocket before zipping and locking the bank bag.

“Oh, someone left their car keys,” Jo says, and Ellen mutters something about drunk drivers and lawsuits as Jo watches through the window to see Dean pull onto the highway.


End file.
